I roll my eyes, dragging her back into the cradle of my body. She struggles, but then I kiss her neck, and she decides this is the better place to be. I recline on the bed with her in my arms. She smells like sugar and rum and rosemary. The weight of her against me grounds me too, right here, the background hum of overactive energy receding for now.
“Yes,” I admit. It’s all the same, from the paintings on the walls to the blanket on the bed.
“Then he kept it like this. For you. Ask Kiara, I’m sure she’ll tell you that.”
Sometimes, Poppy’s perceptiveness startles me. Like now. Her eyes are particularly brilliant in the soft lamp light, ocean-deep and full of happiness.
She puts her palms on my chest, spreading her fingers, and arches up for a chaste kiss. I cup her bottom with both hands and kiss her deeper. Her navy-blue leggings, so tight they might as well be painted on, have been a torturous tease all night. Long ago she took out her braids, leaving her hair wavy and free.
Possessiveness flares in my chest. I want to mark every inch of her, from the backs of her elbows to the insides of her knees to the pointed tip of her nose. I want to kiss between each delicate finger and toe and suck marks into every soft place. I want to learn what makes her gasp and shiver and claw at me for more. There’s so much of her I haven’t mapped yet, and despite how late it is, I’m aching to get started right away.
I pull off my shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor, and tug at her sweater. She’s wearing one of her pretty bras underneath, trimmed with lace and a sweet little bow.
She traces along my collarbone. “Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“With, um... I was wondering if you ever...” There’s something in her expression I don’t like. A hesitation. A question. Her mouth opens. Closes. “Never mind.”
I frown. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” She tugs on my arm until I get the hint and switch positions with her. “It was just a stupid thought.”
She sits on my thighs, pressing kisses to my chest, my stomach, and lower. I watch hungrily as she takes off her bra. Her nipples harden in the cool air, two perfect rosebuds. Outside, rain continues to fall in steady sheets, the wind whipping the palms near the window. She unbuttons my jeans, freeing me.
Any thoughts of pushing her for an answer evaporate the moment her tongue circles the tip of my length.
She hums, teasing before she takes it farther into her mouth. The vibrations rachet up the pleasure. I tangle both hands in her hair, long and loose and so fucking pretty, and tug.
She gasps around her mouthful. Her eyes flick to mine.
“Oh, Princess,” I say, voice low, raw. “That’s it, you feel so good.”
She sucks harder, taking me in deeper. It requires effort not to snap my hips. I pull her hair instead, skin prickling as I see the way it relaxes her. I fucking love how she needs it a little rough, just like me. One of her hands slides up, massaging my sac.
“Fuck.”
She grins around me.
Before long, I’m getting close, balls drawn up tight. I let my hips rock up, fucking into her mouth. She takes it, revels in it, digs her fingernails into my thighs hard enough to sting.
“You want to taste me?” My words are the barest whisper, tinged with steel. She nods. “Then keep those gorgeous eyes on me.”
One, two, three more thrusts, then I spill into her mouth with a grunt. She swallows messily, spit and come coating her lips, her chin. My body relaxes, limbs loosening, but I sit up, taking her with me. She wipes her hand across her mouth. Licks her lips.
“A little salty, Chef,” she says.
“Brat,” I tease. She hits my chest, grinning.
I slide her soaked panties down, dragging her over my bare thigh. She whimpers at the contact with my skin. I kiss her deeply, tongue tangling with hers, tasting myself. I squeeze her ass with both hands, the way I was dying to do all evening, and urge her to rock in my lap. She makes a low sound as she presses even closer.The tips of her breasts brush my chest hair, making both of us shiver.
“Good girl.” I feel her arousal, the warm slickness making it easy to grind her on my thigh. She looks stunning like this, every bit the debauched princess. “I’m dying to get inside you, sweetheart. But I need a moment. Think you can come on my face?”
She nods frantically, lurching forward to kiss me. “Please.”
She’s trembling as I lay her on the bed. Her hair is flung over the pillow like corn silk. My breath catches. I never brought a girl back to this bedroom, never even imagined myself finding this kind of connection with someone.
But she’s here with me. We’re wound together, and I don’t want to let go.
